"Oh, but you must."
"But I won't, Miss Thornton," said Drusilla obstinately. "I don't know what to say."
"I'll go with you, Miss Doane."
"Well—" and Drusilla was a little pacified—"well, I'll go once and see what it's like. I'll do anything once, but I won't promise to do it much."
"Never mind; you must return the first calls. I'll come for you to-morrow and we'll go. You have cards—I had them made for you; and I'll bring my new cardcase. No, I'll get you the dearest bag I saw downtown. Gray suede with a cardcase and mirror in it, and a pencil and everything you need."
"What do I want a mirror in my hand satchel for?"
"Why to powder your nose if it gets shiny, Miss Doane. You're not up to date. You must have a vanity box in your bag or you won't be in it at all now."
Drusilla laughed.
"You ain't forgot how vain I was that first day when I peeked in all the mirrors at the hotel. But now I can pass one without lookin' in, if I ain't got a new dress on."
"Speaking of dresses, Miss Doane, put on that dark gray velvet that Marcelle made you and the hat with the mauve. Oh, I wish it were cold, so you could wear your new furs. But—well—they'll see them all after a while. We mustn't astonish them too much at first."